


2015 Was A Strange Year

by TheMostCareful



Category: Real Person Fiction, Tennis RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Emotionally Repressed, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Ritual Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMostCareful/pseuds/TheMostCareful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four times Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray decided a title in 2015, were all followed by locker room encounters in which they not only continued an age-old tradition, but also rekindled a mutual respect and admiration they thought were gone.</p><p>Organised in four chapters:<br/>Melbourne<br/>Miami<br/>Montreal<br/>Paris</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Melbourne

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Break the Rules with Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/843150) by [Margaery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margaery/pseuds/Margaery). 



> The concept of the unofficial ATP ritual comes from the story mentioned above. You don't need to read that story to understand this one, as this is not in any way a continuation of that work, the two stories just take place in the same universe. I'm just giving credit where it's due. Even though the original concept is not mine, everything that happens here I've imagined myself.
> 
> When two men who used to be very close to each other but whose friendship was severely damaged by a fierce rivalry get together again after one of them has been away for a while, the developments can be surprising. Especially given the nature of what they have to do in each of these encounters. Continuing on with the tradition is an obligation, but that doesn't mean they can't enjoy themselves while doing it.

_Andy_

 

There was still a lot more to be happy about than to complain about. Given how badly things had gone for him in 2014, these past two weeks had been absolutely amazing. No matter how much he denied it in front of the press, at times he had doubted that he would ever be in a Grand Slam final again. And yet, there he was, in the final of the Australian Open, having convincingly earned his spot there. He should be pretty satisfied, and he was. He had proven to everyone (and to himself) that he had it in him to be in that position again, even after a bad year.

 

Of course, there was the fact that he lost said final. Not only did he lose, but he was bageled. Regardless of the significance of his appearance in the final, nobody plans to go to a match like that just to participate. He wanted to win. But couldn't. He wasn't about to go desperate and lose hope on himself, though, things still looked very auspicious for the rest of the year. So while he was still on court, listening to Novak's champion speech, he promised himself that he was not going to be sad. There were more upsides than downsides, so he was going to be gracious in defeat, accept the fact that Novak had played better and be happy about what he had done, not sad about what he hadn't. And he was happy. Despite being the runner-up, he was happy just to be in a major final again. There were 128 players in the tournament and he had done better than 126 of them. He thought he should be grateful for that, and he was. He truly was. But why the hell was he also excited? Losing shouldn't get you excited, especially because there was still the ritual to worry about.

 

"Oh God, the ritual."

 

Who could blame him for forgetting? The ritual is only for the Slams and the Masters, and he hadn't been in a final like that in a while. The ritual. He had actually forgotten about it. But he could bet that Novak hadn't.

 

_Novak_

 

Five times. It still hadn't really sunk in. Five times he had won the Australian Open. It felt especially good after having been eliminated the year before in the way that he was. He celebrated as fiercely as he always did each and every one of his titles. He jumped, ran, shouted, took millions of pictures, smiled wide in all of them and lifted the trophy with pride. There's something animalistic about sports, isn't there? To physically fight against another person for hours for something that you both want to have but only one of you can is such a primal thing to do, and that was probably the reason why it felt so fucking amazing to win a big title like this one. To win it for the eighth time, as Novak was right now, was just indescribable. The rush was almost overwhelming, and it didn't get any less intense no matter how many titles he won. Every single time was just as good as the first one, the same ferocious joy, the same violent sense of achievement. It turned him the fuck on, too. Everything about that moment, about that night, was incredibly satisfying to him. Well, almost everything.

 

He couldn't help but feel for Andy. Even though they were no longer as close as they once were, he was still fond of him. He didn't particularly enjoy having to play him, it felt unnatural. He had no issues whatsoever with playing or defeating anyone else, especially Roger and Rafa, those jerks. But Andy was actually a nice guy, one that he wished well. "Oh, shit, and I bageled him too. I didn't need to have done that, did I? I already had it under control. Shit, Novak", he reprehended himself. His feeling of guilt got a lot worse when he remembered about the ritual.

 

He had forgotten about it. Which was strange, because he never forgot about the ritual, he loved it. But tonight it would be weird. The ritual was a quite brutish thing. It was all about submission, about rubbing your victory in your opponent's face and forcing him to quite literally swallow the fact that he had lost and you had won. That was the exact reason why he loved it. He was more than happy to do that to the other guys, once again with Roger and Rafa as his preferred victims. He had very fond memories of some of the rituals from after defeating them. He was surprised to realise he had never decided on which one had been his favourite. He thought about that for a while, and it wasn't long before the answer was obvious: the one after Monte Carlo in 2013. The memories were enough to send shivers down his spine. But today it wasn't Roger or Rafa, it was Andy. Why was that a problem?

 

It wasn't like he'd never done it to him before. He had. And he had enjoyed it a lot, just like he always did. But things had changed. Andy was on the middle of making a comeback and as much as he hated to admit it, he felt a little guilty that now they were going to go to the locker room and continue the tradition. But he also didn't want to be the one to change the tradition that already existed in the tennis world way before he or Andy were part of it. So guilty or not, after the press conference he went to the locker room and waited.

 

_Andy_

 

He always used to feel absolutely furious over his losses, especially in finals. He felt angry about his errors during the match, he felt angry about having to see his opponent lifting the trophy while he held the runner-up plate and he felt angry about the goddamned ritual. He liked it when he won, but he didn't like it when he lost. So he should be very angry. He wasn't, though. He was pretty much okay with all that. A few moments earlier, he had identified the emotion he was feeling as excitement, which didn't really make much sense considering what he was going to do.

 

The more he thought about it, the more he hated the conclusion he kept arriving at. Could it really be that he had missed being in big finals so much to the point that he was actually... **looking forward** to doing the ritual with Novak? No way. What would the asshole say if he knew that thought even crossed his mind? He'd laugh and say 'I knew it', probably. Then Andy remembered the last time he had been in a ritual. It had also been with Novak, except on that occasion, Andy had won. He had fucking won Wimbledon. For a second, he felt guilty about what he had done: since he lived in London he actually made Novak go to his home the day after the final and do it there.

 

"But it was worth it, wasn't it?"

 

After a few minutes, his mind had defeated him and he thought it was only fair. When you win, you win. When you lose, you lose. So after the press conference, as he got ready to go the locker room and do what had to be done, he noticed that his legs were shaking. They always did that when he had to do the ritual as the runner-up, but usually it was from pure fury, and this wasn't fury. Andy knew fury, and this wasn't it. This was... _anticipation_.

 

Admitting it was a relief. At least it was Novak. He shivered thinking about how much worse this would be if his first ritual after a bad year was with anybody else. But it was Novak. In a way, he had been lucky. He hated himself so much for that, but knew it was true. Then a kinkier side of him started to speak inside his head, almost as if the gratitude he felt for the fact that tonight he'd be with someone he knew well and not anyone else was manifesting itself in an unexpected way. Thoughts such as 'Why not do a good job, right?' crept in. Novak had been very generous in London almost two years before, so why not repay the favour and do a good job for him? He'd be in the other end next time. He laughed sarcastically at himself and headed for the locker room.

 

_Novak_

 

"I should probably tell him he doesn't have to."

 

The other guys didn't have to know. The ritual was there way before they were, but nobody would find out if they skipped one. It's not like there were official rules to what they were doing and he wasn't going to tell anyone. He was certain that Andy would be very relieved to hear that he didn't have to do it if he didn't want to. It still bothered Novak a little that he was thinking that. Doing this came so naturally to him after defeating anybody else. He thought about it and figured that the difference was probably the fact that he didn't hate Andy like he hated almost everyone else on the tour. That's why he wasn't stingy when he lost to him. He still remembered London. Anyone else would have been extremely angry to have to go to the winner's fucking **house** and give him a blowjob there. Novak just thought of it as an adventure, and he genuinely had fun. But he was pretty sure Andy despised him at the moment. And he didn't like the idea of Andy despising him. So when the Scot entered the locker room, Novak was determined to do what he thought Andy wanted him to.

 

"I knew you'd be here already", Andy said.

"Yeah, I guess I always arrive first", Novak replied.

"So typical of you", Andy said as he kept walking towards Novak, who had stood up.

"Yeah, I guess it is. So, about this thing......"

"Don't say you want me to go to your house. Look, man, I'm sor...."

"No, it's not that", Novak couldn't help but giggle. He didn't regret that day in London.

"Okay. What is it, then?"

 

Novak needed to summon up a lot of courage to go on, because Andy was now uncomfortably close to him and he had forgotten how broad his shoulders were when looked at closely and how he was a bit taller than him. It was intimidating and, yes, very hot.

 

"Uh, look... we don't have to. I mean, _you_ don't have to. It's okay. I'm not going to tell anyone."

 

Andy didn't answer. He seemed shocked.

 

_Andy_

 

What? He's **denying** it? Andy felt confused, offended even.

 

"What the hell do you mean?", he asked, angrily now.

"I meant exactly that. You don't have to do it if you don't want to. I assume you don't."

Andy couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did Novak feel sorry for him?

"What? Look, I don't want or need your mercy, okay? You don't have to apologise to me just because you beat me."

"I know, it's not that. It's just... all I'm saying is you're coming back and it would be kind of shitty of me to put you through this in the middle of all that."

"I said I don't want your fucking mercy, Novak. What are you, 10? I can take one loss. I can take one bagel. What I cannot take is you feeling sorry for me. So shut the fuck up."

"No, it's not like that. I wasn't trying to diminish you or feel sorry for you. Look, just.... you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

 

It was personal to Andy now.

"Oh, but I want to."

_Novak_

 

Now Novak was the one who was shocked. He had never thought that he would hear Andy say that he **wanted** to give him a post-defeat blowjob in a locker room. The weight of the word was almost unbearable. 'I want to', he had said.

 

"What did you say?", Novak asked.

"Shut up", Andy replied, seeming hell-bent on doing that. The determination on his face was the last thing Novak saw before Andy covered his eyes with his right hand.

 

What came after was....

 

He wasn't far from a row of lockers but Andy had to push him a little before his back was pressed against their metal. He felt a bit scared, Andy was usually really gentle despite being bigger than him but this time he wasn't being gentle at all. Novak assumed he must have pissed him off. Andy snuck his free hand underneath Novak's shirt and began rubbing his chest. Novak didn't remember Andy's hands being so big, but liked it anyway. It must have lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like a very long time, especially as his shorts grew more and more uncomfortably tight. Suddenly, he felt his shirt being taken off and then realised Andy wasn't covering his eyes anymore, he just hadn't opened them. He decided to continue like that a little longer.

 

Andy continued to caress his chest, except now that he had both hands free he was also doing the same to his back. It felt very weird for Novak, because nobody else gave a damn about foreplay. It's not like this ritual was some sort of fucking date, it was about humiliating the defeated opponent by making him swallow your fucking load. But why was he the one who felt totally dominated if he had won the match? Novak just stood there, not daring to move one muscle, completely frozen by that moment. He had forgotten how good Andy was at that. His hands were reaching further down after each circular motion he did on the front of Novak's body, who was sure he hadn't been that hard in months. He refused the temptation to open his eyes when Andy kneeled, afraid he might finish early if he did. So he just waited. Andy pulled down his shorts and underwear and he waited. It felt like forever. What the fuck was he waiting for? 'Come on!' He was surprised by how much he wanted it, especially given how he was willing to live without it a moment ago.

 

When he first felt the warmth of Andy's mouth around his cock, he let out a low moan. He was sure Andy had heard it, but didn't care. Right now, he didn't care about anything. Andy started with the tip and slowly got more and more of Novak's dick into his mouth each time he pulled back and then moved forwards again. Eventually he was getting all of it in and out of his mouth, slowly at first, but getting faster and faster. At this point, Novak already felt like an idiot for having tried to deny that. He finally opened his eyes and looked down. He saw his cock appearing and disappearing from sight each time Andy repeated the movement, getting shinier from saliva each time it reappeared. He held Andy's head with both his hands and helped guide the motion, forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards. Andy's tongue moved relentlessly while he was doing so, stimulating every single nerve in his cock, which felt so hard it could explode. Novak closed his eyes again, he was already trying to find ways to postpone the moment when he would come. He wanted this to last. He desperately wished that every final he ever played was against Andy and that he won every single one of them just to feel that again. He tried to rationalise why this one blowjob in particular felt so good, but failed, there was probably not enough blood in his brain to think too hard.

 

Suddenly, Andy let Novak's cock out of his mouth. The noise it made when it popped out was filthy and absolutely irresistible. Novak took his hands off Andy's head, opened his eyes and looked down again. Andy was staring at his cock, as if the bastard was fucking proud of the good job he was doing or something, then he started kissing it; slowly, starting from the bottom and slowly working his way up. The ruggedness of his stubble against his dick was almost too much to handle, and when he looked up and stared at Novak straight in the eye, he immediately avoided his look and summoned up every last bit of strength in him not to drown his face in spunk.

 

Once again, Andy got all of it in his mouth but this time he took a second to pull back and in that split second, he somehow managed to lick every square centimetre of Novak's cock, soaking it up in saliva. Novak uselessly tried to tell himself that the continuation of the tradition was all that was going on, but he knew that was a lie even before the thought was completely formed in his mind. He was enjoying that a lot more than he should be, but it was Andy's fault. He was just doing too good a job. His dick fit perfectly into Andy's mouth, whose tongue was warm, agile and frantic, not missing a single spot, a single pressure point, a single sensitive area. His dick was pulsating with orgasm, and even standing up was difficult at this point. Novak had his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling and just hoping he could last a little bit longer. When he decided to look down one more time he once again saw the frown on Andy's face, the pure determination he was putting into that blowjob. He was even sweating. Novak knew he wasn't gonna last much longer, so he got his hands back on Andy's head and got ready for it. Andy's hands, which until then had been on Novak's hips, pushing and pulling them, loosened their grip, as if he knew Novak was about to come. He got his right hand around the base of Novak's cock and with his left one, held his knee. Then he let his cock pop out of his mouth again, licked it from the base to the tip one last time and then said the words that would haunt Novak for weeks: "Don't hold it".

 

That's it. Novak couldn't take it anymore. He came, he came a lot, and somehow Andy was fast enough to get his mouth around his dick just in time to swallow everything. Novak tried to avoid it, but couldn't: he moaned very loudly. He would have worried about the possibility of someone having heard it if he just wasn't so... invested in what he was doing. He had no strength left in his legs and he would have fallen if he hadn't been leaning against the lockers. Andy still had his mouth around his cock, as if refusing to let go. He sucked it one or two times, getting the last drops of Novak's come and swallowing them before he finally backed off for good. Novak felt absolutely exhausted.

 

_Andy_

 

So... that happened. Andy couldn't recall having been so determined to do a good job at the ritual before. He knew that the reason for that was the fact Novak had tried to deny it. That fired him up. The last time he had done that to him, which he just remembered had also been in Melbourne, in that same locker room (could it have been in this exact spot?), he had just gone through the motions as if completing another ATP formality. Novak had enjoyed it and made a lot of noise, most of which Andy was convinced had been fake, just because he was a sick fuck. But he kind of liked that sick fuck, and he had sounded genuine this time, making Andy feel strangely proud. It was almost as if a part of his mind was saying, 'That'll teach him not to deny me again'. Today, almost exactly two years after the last time, he had sucked Novak's dick again, except this time he wanted to do it and would do it one more time if he asked him to, just because he didn't like being denied. The Serb didn't ask for another one, though. He seemed fatigued, and Andy was sure it wasn't from the match.

 

"Wow, that was... I don't even know what to say", Novak said.

"Then don't say anything, that'll be a first. You never shut up", Andy replied. He then held one of his index fingers to Novak's face and said in a threatening tone: "Next time you beat me, don't you dare feel sorry for me again or I swear I'll bite it off".

 

Andy had stood up and was staring at Novak straight in the eyes, but he was avoiding his glance, staring at the ground instead. He still had his hands on his knees, as if struggling to stand up.

 

"I... I'm sorry for... that", Novak said weirdly, between long breaths.

"Yeah, it'll be hard to get the taste of your regret out of my mouth", Andy replied, back to his sarcastic self.

Novak laughed artificially before saying: "This was.... wow, you actually..... like, swallowed it. You had never done that before."

"Hadn't I?"

"No."

"Oh". Andy didn't remember that detail. "But you have, right? Mine?"

"I have."

"Oh, so I guess I owed you that."

 

Novak did that fake laugh again, and Andy realised that that was actually the very first time he had seen Novak acting nervous. He was embarrassed, he was even blushing. The fucked up pride Andy was feeling got bigger and he decided it was time to leave before things got weirder.

 

"Well, unless you want another one, I should get going, before someone finds the door locked and starts to wonder what the hell is going on in here", Andy said.

"Yeah, okay. Bye." Novak still did not look him in the eye.

 

Andy walked out of the locker room feeling vindicated. He was a little surprised by how angry he had felt when Novak tried to deny it. He wondered how the unusual intensity he had shown would affect their next encounter. His pride had gotten the better of him, but he knew he wasn't sorry. He was very glad his first ritual after a long break had been with Novak. Very glad indeed.


	2. Miami

_Andy_

 

"Shit, again?" It felt like Melbourne all over again. Making it all the way to a final just to be bageled was more than frustrating, it was... there wasn't even a word for that. Okay, the Miami tournament is not a Grand Slam, so this is not _as_ bad as the Australian Open, but still, fuck this. And once again it had been Novak. Andy was still packing up his equipment, which now included another runner-up trophy, when the Serb walked past him, on his way to be interviewed by the press and say how grateful he was to win Miami again. Except he glanced at Andy and smiled. He might as well have said, 'see you in the locker room'.

 

For a split second, Andy hated him. Not because he kept beating him (well, maybe because of that) but mostly because of the fact that he **would** see him in the locker room. But that didn't last very long. The more Andy thought about it, the less sense it made to him. Why was he unable to hate Djokovic for longer than a few seconds? It would be justifiable if he did hate him, right? He had eliminated him in the three biggest tournaments of the year so far. If that's not enough to make you hate someone, then what is? Andy felt angry over not being angry. Two weeks earlier, in California, he'd been relieved that the ritual didn't apply to semifinals. But today it wasn't a semifinal, it was a final and he knew that after how... thorough he'd been in Australia, Novak would be excited to see him.

 

_Novak_

"Don't these reporters ever stop talking?", Novak thought repeatedly during the press conference. Yes, he was happy to defend his title, but there would be plenty of time to celebrate later. Right now, he wanted to go to the locker room. When he finally did get rid of all the press, he practically raced to it. The memories of Melbourne kept coming back to him. Andy had told him never to feel sorry for him again, but Novak almost wanted to pretend he did just to feel Andy's rage-induced, pride-fuelled blowjob again.

 

As usual, he got to the locker room way before Andy did. He always arrived first at the ritual, even when he lost but especially when he won. He'd usually sit down and wait. But he was too excited to sit down. He kept pacing across the room, and he thought perhaps Andy had chickened out at least a million times. Two weeks before, he had felt much different doing the ritual with Roger. Novak had waited patiently for him, and when they got to business, he was exaggeratedly loud in his moans, and extra emphatic when rubbing his victory - in the shape of his dick, naturally - in the Swiss' face. It was kind of annoying how none of that seemed to matter to Roger. He obliged without even a hint of resentment or annoyance in his face. He just did it without complaining. Novak kind of wished he complained.

 

But fuck that guy. Tonight it wasn't him. The Melbourne flashbacks just wouldn't stop tormenting Novak. He was hard way before Andy arrived. At one point he needed to remind himself of the purpose of the ritual. Above everything, it wasn't about sex. It wasn't about pleasure. It was about submission, humiliation and assertion of dominance, and most definitely **not** enjoyment.

 

"Yeah, I know...", Novak said to his own head. "That's what I'm doing". Finally, Andy arrived.

 

_Andy_

 

The second he came through the door, he saw Novak, who was pacing frantically. Andy was right, he was looking forward to this. Why wouldn't he, right? The bastard seemed to have the magic of 2011 going for him again, he was ruling the world and neither Andy nor Roger nor anyone else had been able to get in his way, and it didn't look like that was going to change anytime soon. Look at him over there with that sick smile, he's in that spot for the third time already this year and we're not even halfway through the season. Andy wished Novak would try to decline again, except this time he'd accept it. But that wasn't going to happen, was it?

 

For some reason Andy remembered the very first time he'd been in a champions' ritual, one distant night in Cincinnati. "Guess who it was", he thought to himself. Unbelievably, given the history of their rivalry, he'd had Djokovic way before Djokovic had him, more than two whole years. That didn't really make much sense, but Andy wasn't complaining. He figured being in the loser's position on your very first ritual was uncomfortable to say the least but somehow he had got away with a win on his first try. It wasn't Novak's first time, though, and he was almost goofy while doing it, just to break the tension and just because he had the confidence to do so. He somehow managed to make Andy feel comfortable enough to really enjoy himself, despite the nervousness from being in that awkward position for the first time. Perhaps that was the reason why Andy didn't feel uneasy doing this with him like he did with all the others. But tonight he was really pissed off, and definitely didn't want to do it. He knew he would have to, though, especially given the look on Novak's face, who finally noticed he had arrived.

 

_Novak_

 

"Hey", Novak said when he saw Andy watching him, "how long have you been standing there?"

"Not much", Andy answered. "How long have you been waiting?"

Novak wanted to say 'a few months', but thought that might have been pushing it a little. "Not much", he lied, unconvincingly. Novak was the one who moved towards Andy this time, unable to hide his excitement. "Well..."

"Yeah, just... give me a minute, okay?"

 

Andy went to one of the sinks and started to splash water over his face.

"Why are you washing your face if I'm gonna get it dirty?" was Novak's attempt at making a joke. He instantly regretted having said that.

 

Thankfully Andy didn't seem to acknowledge what he had said and just kept doing what he was. It took him a while, and in the meantime Novak sat down, for the first time in almost a whole hour. When Andy (finally) finished and turned around, he looked resigned. That was when Novak (finally) realised how differently he was acting from the way he had in Australia.

 

"Are you... okay?" Novak said as Andy walked toward him.

"Yeah", the Scot replied. "Why?"

"I don't know. You're acting weird."

"What do you mean?"

 

Andy was still standing and because Novak was sitting and Andy had gotten closer, at this point it kind of looked like Novak would be doing the honours. Andy's posture had always been a little intimidating.

"I... just... nothing. It's nothing, sorry."

 

Andy did not look one bit convinced, but did not prolong the conversation either. He opened Novak's legs wide and positioned himself between them in a very uncomfortably mechanical way. The roles had been reversed, and now it was Novak who had to look down so his eyes would meet Andy's face.

 

"Any particular requests?", he asked monotonously.

Novak was almost scared at this point. "Uh..... no." The last word came out almost like a question.

"Just the usual?"

"I guess."

"Take off your shorts, then."

"Uh, yeah, right." Novak obeyed.

"Why are you not.... 'ready' yet?" Andy asked when he did.

"Asshole, just... give me a second, okay?"

 

Why was Andy being so weird? Novak tried to ignore that as he wanked his cock a few times, trying to get himself hard again. He was a moment ago, but Andy's weirdness had killed it. What was going on? He'd said he could handle whatever happened on court, hadn't he? So now what, was he having second thoughts and didn't want to do what he had to because he was mad about losing? That wasn't fair. Novak wasn't sure if that was it, but still, the idea got him a little bit mad. And he knew that he could get really turned on from anger. How many times had he done this to a defeated opponent using exactly that as the fuel to get him going? Nobody likes sore losers, and he felt like Andy was being just that. But he hadn't done anything wrong, he had won the match, fair and square, he was the champion, and this is what the champions did after they won. And they'd be doing it regardless of anything. That was it, that was what he needed. He was hard again. And Andy would be sucking the come out of him whether he liked it or not.

 

"There", Novak said, now determined to be as obnoxiously loud and over-the-top as he could. "Suck it." In the second that followed, Novak realised that Andy had perceived his change in attitude, from enthusiastic to demanding. And Novak knew that he would react accordingly.

 

Andy got all of Novak's dick into his mouth at once, without any hesitation. His mouth was a lot less warm than it usually was, probably from the cold water he had just splashed over his face. But Novak wouldn't let that soften him, not when he was as fired up as he was right then and there. "Don't forget to use your tongue", he ordered, and Andy immediately obliged, licking the tip of Novak's dick gently and with no hurry, making sure not to miss any part of it. When he started the back-and-forth motion, Novak put his plans of being loud into practice. "That's fucking right", he said more than once. Andy seemed unfazed, he just kept relentlessly moving and licking and spitting and letting Novak's cock pop out every now and then, stroking it a few times with his hand and then getting it in his mouth again, without ever hesitating or stopping to think about it.

 

Between his increasingly heavy breaths, Novak felt like he wasn't in control, and decided he needed to change that. He held Andy's head and started to guide the motion, forcing him to go a bit faster than he already was. But he still seemed undisturbed. Determined, Novak stood up and pulled out of his mouth. He stood behind Andy in order to have more room, made him turn around and put his dick in his mouth again, except this time he started moving his hips so as to force himself in and out of Andy's mouth; gently at first, but getting faster every second.

 

Now he was really enjoying this. As he kept swinging forwards and backwards, the orgasms really kicked in and he would've been loud even if he wasn't pissed off. Andy finally looked like he was having to actually **focus** on what he was doing, and Novak enjoyed that. He kept face-fucking him and feeling his dick getting wetter and wetter when he started to think about how much he deserved that. He had won, hadn't he? And the victors get the spoils, that's how it had always worked. And that's what was happening there. Finally, he had managed to remind himself of the true meaning of this ritual. It wasn't about the pleasure he was feeling. It was about the look on Andy's face right now as he struggled to keep up, the look of the defeated, the look of the ones who lost and still had to suck a dick afterwards. Yeah. That's what you get on top of the fucking bagel. My dick. His mind was racing through those thoughts as he felt that he was getting closer and closer to coming when...

 

"Ah! Motherfucker!", he shouted as he pulled out of Andy's mouth. "Don't use your fucking teeth."

"Oops, sorry", Andy said grinning after looking up at Djokovic.

 

Jerk. He had done it on purpose, of course, but what really annoyed Novak was that after that, he continued to suck him as he was before, except he kept looking straight up. Novak avoided his look, but Andy was in control again. He was using both his hand and his mouth now; hand at the base, mouth at the tip. Novak wasn't gonna last much longer. He kept himself from looking down for a little while longer, but when he finally did and encountered Andy's eyes, he knew that was the end of it. He bit his lower lip and said: "Get ready". Andy got all of his dick in his mouth one last time before pulling out for good and then started stroking it. Novak was able to resist it for less than ten seconds. He came, and he held Andy's head so he couldn't dodge the streams of come that flew towards his face, which was then completely smeared.

 

"You should have swallowed it", he said.

"Next time", Andy replied.

"It's the champion that decides these things, not the runner-up, you know."

"You didn't say anything."

 

It was true. He hadn't said anything. He had been too busy being angry.

"Alright, I'll let it go this time. Next time swallow it."

"Yeah, next time."

 

_Andy_

 

As he reached for the towel and wiped Novak's come off his face, Andy noticed that he wasn't moving. He was just standing there in front of him, dick still hard, looking as if he was thinking of ways that could have gone better.

 

"Are you just gonna stay there?"

Andy was still kneeling, so Novak looked down, with a very clear expression of discontentment in his face. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous." He then got a different towel to wipe the saliva off his dick.

 

Andy finished cleaning himself, even though the smell would be harder to get off, and then stood up. Novak was now behind him, putting his underwear and his shorts back on. Andy almost felt guilty for the bite, but Novak was getting a bit too excited. Plus, it wasn't as if he'd bitten hard. He was sure Novak would forgive him for that.

 

"See you later", the Serb said as he walked past Andy, in a rush to leave.

"Novak, wait." He stopped and turned around. "What is it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why are you all mad and shit?"

"I'm not mad, I just won a title. I'm really happy."

"Okay. And... are we cool?"

"Why wouldn't we be?"

"I'm asking you."

 

Novak loosened his shoulders and sighed. "This is a weird time to talk, don't you think? After I just came on your face?" He had a point.

"You just seemed oddly... fierce there for a moment".

"Well, I was entitled to be, wasn't I? I won. That's how it works."

"Yeah. 'To the victor go the spoils' and all that, right?"

"To the victor go the spoils."

 

Both men nodded and Andy knew for sure that things most definitely would be weird next time they met in this scenario, regardless of who won.

 

"See you next time, then", he finally said.

"Take care", Novak said before leaving.


	3. Montreal

_Novak_

 

"I had to falter now, against him. I just had to, didn't I?"

 

Losing a match had become something extremely rare for Novak, so it was hard not to begrudge Andy his trophy as he gave his champion speech. He didn't speak any French, so he addressed the crowd in English while someone translated. "If I had won, I'd be talking to them in their own language", Novak kept thinking. He had won the Canadian Open before, so it didn't feel like the end of the world. But then again, so had Andy, why was he so determined during the match? The downside of being the best in the world is that everybody plays the match of their life against you. Usually, it still wasn't enough to stop him, but this time it had been. Andy denied it, but Novak knew that he enjoyed defeating him more than others. Who wouldn't, though? He was the guy on the top.

 

But Novak knew he wasn't being fair. With everything that had happened that year thus far, he could take one runner-up finish. The problem was he had already taken one, exactly the one he wasn't willing to, and as much as he was friends with Stan, he was still finding it extremely difficult to not feel resentful. He repeated to himself that this wasn't as bad and that he could try again next year, there was no shame in losing to Andy, he was a fantastic player who had proven his talent time and again in the past. As he struggled to talk himself out of bitterness, he remembered how childish he had been towards Andy in the locker room in Miami. He'd remained angry for one day or two, but soon started to regret how aggressive he had been. He had a million reasons not to be a dick towards Andy, there were a million things that made him very, very different from the other guys on the tour, but his anger had blinded him and he really started to feel like maybe he had ruined what friendship they still had left. He didn't figure Andy for the vindictive type, but even he thought he had messed up pretty bad. Lightning had struck: Novak Djokovic had lost a match in 2015, and his conqueror would probably be very categorical in making that fact plainly clear in the locker room.

 

_Andy_

 

"Fuck yeah!", Andy thought when he heard the referee say the magical words 'Game, set, match, Murray'. Two Masters in the same season was something he hadn't been able to do since 2011, and after a complicated surgery there was no shortage of critics saying he would never do it again. A Slam would have been better, but he wasn't complaining. If anyone knew that you have to wait for things and that you can't rush them, that someone was Andy. No-one could deny that he was back, he was one of the most powerful players in the world, and one of the very, very few who had been able to dethrone the mighty Novak Djokovic. Although he wasn't going to seem mighty in an hour or so.

 

Andy reprehended himself for thinking that. The ritual was diminishing enough, there was no need to make it even less classy. He could hardly imagine how ugly things got when the more competitive guys did it. But that just wasn't Andy's style. He was never sadistic when he was in the winner's position. He knew from the rumours around the tour that the other three Big Four were most definitely not as gentle as he was, and he had felt a bit scared a few months earlier in Florida when he pissed Novak off a little bit with his whining. And he knew very well how much the Serb hated losing. At one point, he thought Novak might want to repay the bite. He had come to terms with the fact that he was unable to hate Novak or be mad at him for very long, no matter how many times he lost to him, but he had no proof that the feeling was reciprocal. What if it wasn't?

 

But then again, who else would have willingly done what Novak had in London more than two years earlier? And he had also lost back then. Perhaps the feeling did flow both ways after all.

 

_Novak_

 

Arriving first at the locker room for these things was almost like Novak's trademark. He was one of the fiercest defenders of the continuation of the ritual, mostly because he won more often than he lost, but also because in his mind, there was a lot of justice to it. It was a final assertion of who had come out on top, a definitive statement of superiority. At least, that was what he told himself. He had always been successful in evading the voice in his head that sometimes suggested perhaps he just enjoyed getting blowjobs from guys.

 

As he waited for Andy, he remembered the two times he'd been with him that year. Melbourne had been one of the best orgasms of his life, right up there with that filthy day in Monaco in 2013, probably because he wasn't expecting it, because he was willing to live without it and then got it anyway. But in Miami he'd been so stupid, it seemed like now Andy was going to get revenge. Once again Novak felt silly for the way he had behaved and regretted having been so ruthless to him. He wasn't Roger and he wasn't Rafa, he was someone that Novak had once been very fond of, and in a way still was, despite the rivalry and the everything. He also suspected that most guys on the tour didn't exactly like him, with Andy as the one obvious exception. He feared that might not be true anymore. What goes around, comes around. "Prepare to get face-fucked", Novak thought. Regret was basically the only emotion when he was feeling when Andy arrived, but he felt determined to do whatever he could to save whatever was still there to be saved.

 

_Andy_

 

This moment would never not be weird. Arriving at the locker room to meet your defeated opponent who would now have to please you, the guy who beat him, could seem a bit cruel sometimes. But only sometimes. Andy didn't like to admit it, but he got a kick out of it too. He was human after all, and not even his genuine courteousness kept him from enjoying it. He remembered the anticipation he had felt a few months earlier after beating Nadal in Madrid. He'd never had the Spaniard before, and the mixture of emotions - excitement over shutting up the haters who criticised his clay game by beating the king of the surface in his own country, joy after claiming his first Masters title in over two years and apprehension due to Nadal's reputation in the locker room - had made for one hell of an experience, one he had enjoyed very, very much. He suspected the reason Rafael had been so intense was gratitude for having at least had the chance to fight for the title after a complicated couple of months, the exact same thing that had fuelled Andy in Melbourne's encounter with Novak.

 

Novak. He was waiting patiently before he arrived, as usual. Andy was certain that there was no way this would be better than what had gone down in London in 2013, but it was still him and Novak, and that would always be exciting. The Serb had been his first, that mattered. He was worried, though. In Miami they both had been fools, but in the end Murray always thought he was the one who was wrong the most, always the good guy. Novak had won the match fairly, there was no need for all the attitude Andy had given him. He feared the Serb would be even more rancorous than he normally was after a loss.

 

"Hey there", Andy said hesitantly.

"Hi, champ", Novak answered, in a much lighter tone than Andy had expected. "Congratulations again".

"Thanks, I uh... I really didn't expect to win, you've been playing so well and..."

"I'm not a reporter, you don't have to give me that crap, you know...", he said almost laughing.

"Hey, I meant that!" Andy replied, now smiling honestly. It was mind-boggling how Novak was able to lighten up the mood of a moment like this, probably the most cringeworthy situation imaginable. Andy relaxed again.

"No, seriously, you've earned this", Novak continued. "You really have. Both this one and the one in Madrid. It's not easy to make such a big comeback the way you're making right now, that's really admirable. Shows how great you are."

 

This was weird. Why was Novak being so nice to him? Andy thought perhaps he was trying to trick him into declining the blowjob, but that didn't make any sense. As much as Novak hated to lose, he took this formality very seriously and wasn't the type to betray his own beliefs.

 

_Novak_

 

"Oh, thank you, Novak. Thank you", said Andy, obviously puzzled.

 

At this point Novak was relieved. He had really thought the Scot would walk into the locker room furiously resolute to get revenge for the childishness he had displayed in Florida and deep-throat the shit out of him. He should have known better. Andy wasn't that type of guy. He probably didn't even remember that anymore, or even if he did, had forgiven him already. For a second there, Novak felt perhaps Andy might just be a better person than he was. He admired that. He knew he didn't exactly had it in him to be so lenient.

 

"Don't mention it", Novak finally said.

 

None of them said anything for a while. They just stood there, not necessarily looking at each other, just waiting for someone to say or do something. It was usually Novak who broke the ice, and this time was no different.

 

"So, are we doing this or what?"

"I guess we can", Andy said trying to seem uninterested. And failing.

"Well, you've been so nice to me this year. I think it's only fair that I repay the favour, don't you think, Rogers Cup champion?" When the words came out of Novak's mouth, he instantly realised he would never have said that after a loss if said loss had been at the hands of anyone else.

 

Andy simply shrugged his shoulders and grinned, clearly weirded out. Novak knew that Andy cringed a lot more than he did - it took a lot to embarrass him, that's one of the things that had made the Melbourne experience so intense - and it was very funny to watch. But he was also relieved to see that there was no animosity in Andy's words or behaviour, even though it would have been perfectly understandable if there was. Novak had absolutely no reason not to be extremely nice to him.

 

"Okay, let's do this", he finally said.

 

_Andy_

 

When Novak gently pushed him against the nearest wall, Andy was still struggling to understand why he was being so nice. He expected a little bit of hostility: it was his first loss at a Masters event all year long. But there was absolutely none. Novak simply kneeled before him, held his thighs and stared at his crotch without a hint of malice. He then started to kiss his penis over his shorts, enticing it and getting it ready. He rubbed his cheeks and chin against it as well, making Andy really remember why he was special. Novak took his time doing that, and didn't pull down Andy's pants or underwear until his dick was rock hard. He held it with both hands and rubbed his tongue against the tip, and Andy made a sound for the first time, an almost inaudible moan of excitement.

 

Novak then got one of his hands out of the way and swallowed all of Andy's dick as far as his other hand, still grabbing on to the base, allowed. His mouth was very wet and the process was effortless. Andy couldn't stop looking down, and he saw in great detail everything that Novak was doing. He had started to move his head back and forth, giving Andy chills and orgasms, while still holding on to the base of his dick. Suddenly, he let go and quickly got all of Andy's penis inside his mouth, moving his tongue all around it as he did so and remaining like that for quite a few seconds before pulling back. Both men had held their breaths as he did so, and Andy's loud sighs afterwards seemed to make Novak more motivated. He held the base of Andy's dick again but now that it was wet, instead of just grabbing it, he started rapidly moving his hand around it by flexing his wrists, all the while still going back and forth with his head. He was just doing too many things at once, Andy could barely keep track of everything. So he decided to stop trying and just... feel.

 

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. His mouth unwillingly opened as he felt the contact of Novak's hand and tongue and the inside of his cheeks against his cock, which vibrated with every beat of his heart. The orgasms were coming in quick sucession, one right after the other, and he just had to release the tension vocally. He started moaning and that just seemed to make Novak go even faster, even harder. He let Andy's cock pop out just to make sure that no part of it had missed being licked, carefully sliding his tongue along the entire surface of it. When Andy looked back down, he noticed that Novak was doing so with his eyes open, looking at his dick and concentrating on what he was doing. Fuck yeah. He then got back to the swallowing and the rubbing of the hands and the tonguing, and Andy wasn't sure how much longer he was going to hold.

 

He put one of his hands on the back of Novak's head and used the other to hold on to a nearby pillar - he felt like he needed to hold on to something. His breathing was so fast and his heartbeat so frantic that he felt dizzy for a few seconds. Andy briefly let go of Novak's head and rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead, feeling sweat there. Then Novak reached up, grabbed his hand and put it on the back of his head again, almost as if saying 'keep it there'. That somehow made Andy's orgasms even more intense, to see that he wasn't the only one having a good time. He started to use that hand to push Novak's head against him and thrust himself inside his mouth, albeit gently.

 

He was feeling that he was close so he slowed down a little bit but Novak didn't. He was spinning his mouth and his hand around Andy's dick in opposite directions, and the noises that his mouth was doing as he did so were obscene. Andy felt that he was going to come so he straightened his back - at that point he was almost bent from thrusting forwards - and held both of Novak's ears firmly before saying: "Here it comes".

 

Novak stopped his motion, backed off a little bit and opened his mouth wider. Andy didn't understand why at first, but when he kept stroking his dick with his hand the reason became obvious. Andy tilted his head back one last time before finally moaning louder than before and exploding. He looked back down quickly enough to see the jets of come flying out of his cock and going straight into Novak's mouth, who had been smart enough to position himself so Andy would be able to see that. His body was shaking, so Novak had to keep following him so he wouldn't miss the streams, but he didn't miss any, which was amazing considering just how much Andy was coming. When the flow finally ended, Novak calmly closed his mouth and swallowed everything without hesitating. Andy had come so much he was able to hear the sound that the liquid made when he did. Novak then looked up and said nothing, appearing to be tired from the effort. Andy didn't avoid his look, completely mesmerised.

 

_Novak_

 

"Fucking hell", Andy said in an exasperated voice.

 

Novak didn't really know what to do other than just look up at Andy's face and smile. That smile soon became a soft laughter as he realised just how much thought and effort he had put into that. He kept thinking of ways to do it better, making them up as he went and immediately testing them out. Judging from how the usually quiet Andy had been vocal on that occasion, he assumed it had worked. The why part was a bit tricky, though. Of course, there was the determination he had felt of making things right with probably the one colleague he had who didn't wish his death. Could this simply have been an elaborate, fucked up apology? That explanation didn't suffice. He had done everything so naturally, without even thinking about it. Which was hugely different from how he usually felt in the loser's position. In Paris he had been with Stan trying to hold himself from punching him or losing his shit and sobbing. He said to his own brain that maybe he just cared less about a tournament he had won before than about one he never had, but he wasn't convinced. He decided to worry about that later.

 

Right now he enjoyed watching Andy struggle to regain his breath.

"You're welcome", he said theatrically, more to break his own tension than Andy's.

"I didn't say thank you", he replied in a humorous tone.

"Ungrateful bastard", Novak answered, also light-heartedly, making Andy laugh.

 

The Scot then sat down on the floor, obviously needing a minute to regain composure. Novak also sat, right in front of Andy.

 

"You should lose more often", against all odds, Andy was the first one to make a tension-breaking joke this time.

"Yeah, I'll think about it", Novak replied sarcastically. He was still going to kick himself for losing, always the competitor.

"I thought you hated this", Andy said.

"Being the runner-up or giving blowjobs?"

"Both."

"That's because I do."

 

Andy reached for his underwear and his shorts and put them back on. None of them said anything for a while, at least three minutes. Andy because he was still calming himself down and Novak because he couldn't think of anything. The Serb finally spoke first:

"I'm sorry about Miami."

"What about Miami?"

"I was kind of a dick there."

"I don't remember you being a dick, I just remember you forcing yours down my throat."

"Asshol..." Novak didn't even finish saying the word, angry that Andy kept making him laugh when he was trying to be serious. "I mean it. I'm sorry."

 

"Dude, what are you talking about?", Andy asked, genuinely confused. "What did you do?"

The fact that he seriously didn't think Novak had anything to apologise for just made the Serb admire him even more. People like that just don't exist anymore, do they?

 

"Okay, then. Last time I tried to be nice to you you threatened to bite off my cock, so I'm not going to take any chances".

"If what you did in Melbourne is your definition of being nice then you're a bigger bastard than I thought".

"Congratulations again, for today".

"It's great to beat the best player in the world".

"Don't get used to it".

"After what you just did, I might feel tempted to".

 

Novak laughed, not only because of the ridiculousness of what Andy had just said but because it actually didn't sound that far-fetched. He replied something funny again, and the two just kept going back and forth for a while, as if competing to see who could liven up the mood the most. But after that was over, they just sort of kept on talking. Sitting on the locker room floor, the two just went on and on for some twenty minutes or so, having a perfectly natural conversation as if nothing out of the ordinary had just gone down.

 

This shouldn't be happening, should it? After what they had just done, after the dirtiness of what they had just shared, they shouldn't be talking, and even if they were, they should be at least weirded out. But they weren't. Not even slightly restless. That wasn't normal, that wasn't natural. What exactly was it that made Novak not want to run out of that locker room as fast as he could? Since everything was so unusual already, he thought he might as well give in to what he was starting to feel like doing. If you're going to be out of your mind for a while, you might as well give it your all, right?

 

The ritual didn't have any rules other than humiliate your defeated opponent as much as you could, but as usual Andy had not been cruel at all and he knew it was nothing short of a miracle that he had felt **comfortable** when he should have been infuriated and demeaned. Anyone else in the world would have been more than content to defeat the best player in the world and then have their way with him, even the ones that seemed nice at first. Stan hadn't gone easy on him. He was just so fucking tired of being hated by everyone, of being the one everyone looks forward to taking down. It was such a relief to be with someone who wished him well that he wanted to hold on to that instant as hard as he could. If Andy had disrespected the practice's number-one rule to favour him, why couldn't he do the same for him? Plus, he wanted to. He had no justification for it, but in the heat of the moment he wanted to do it.

 

_Andy_

 

Novak was staring weirdly at him during the conversation, as if there were a million things going through his head right then and there. Andy thought he was probably just mad over the loss, which would have been predictable and normal. Even though he was enjoying himself (how long had it been since the last time they had just sat down and talked?), he figured it wasn't exactly nice of him to stay there with the Serb and not leave him alone when he most likely wanted to be.

 

"I should go", he said.

"Why?"

"I have a plane to catch. So do you. To Cincinatti".

"I know, but we still have time".

"I like to do things without hurry".

"Yeah, I know from experience that you do", Novak said that last sentence with such a malicious smirk that Andy had to resist the urge not to say every swear word he knew. "Jerk", was what he limited himself to.

 

Novak giggled, and Andy decided that was it. He stood up, but as soon as he did, Novak grabbed his leg and looked up at him.

 

"Don't go".

 

Which was unexpected. What came after was more. Novak had been sitting down, but he got back on his knees, right in front of Andy, looking at him like he was something rare. Andy's guilelessness kept him from realising what Novak was going to do until he started to do it. He was... he was giving him another one.

 

Andy raised his hands up in surprise and shock as Novak pulled his shorts and his underwear down and, for the second time that day, put his entire cock in his mouth, without warning or apparent reason. It wasn't even hard, they had just been talking normally. That quickly changed though, as the Serb started working his magic again. He was repeatedly getting Andy's dick in and out his mouth a lot earlier than he had before, as if he was more desperate this time, as if there was a certain urgency to what he was doing. His tongue seemed able to be in two places at the same time, able to lick all of his penis at once, and was warm as a blanket. Novak's saliva lubricated the process and soon Andy was sliding in and out of him smoothly and with ease.

 

The orgasms kicked in and Andy could barely believe that he was already able to feel those again, such a short time after coming. Novak once again got his hand around the base of his dick and made it slide in the opposite direction of his head. His mouth would start at the tip and his hand at the base and they would meet in the middle, going back and then repeating the process. Again. And again. And again. A bit faster now. Even faster than that. Andy's heartbeat was absurdly intense at this point, making his penis shake every time inside Novak's mouth, causing it to slam against his tongue, his cheeks, his teeth. Even that felt nice.

 

Novak let his dick pop out but grabbed it with his hand and thoroughly licked one side of it, did the same thing on the other side, underneath it, and then dedicated a good amount of time to the glans, making sure to stimulate every cell that was there to be stimulated, leaving no part of its surface without caress. Andy felt on the verge of losing his senses. Novak was using so much saliva that some of it was dripping from Andy's cock and falling to the floor. He swallowed all of his dick again, taking his sweet time to back off and sucking so hard that Andy could see his cheeks being pulled inside his mouth.

 

Then he restarted the back-and-forth insanity, and the using of his hands and the licking and the... Andy didn't even know what was going on anymore, it was just too much. The orgasms were absurd and he felt that he was getting closer and closer to coming. He thought about warning Novak but didn't feel like it was necessary, he was so focused that he would probably sense it coming before Andy did himself. He just wasn't sure how much was going to come out, given the volume of the load he had shot barely a half hour earlier.

 

He couldn't believe how invested Novak was. Why? But there was absolutely no way he could concentrate enough to try and understand that now, not while this was still going on. Novak then let his dick out of his mouth again, but held it and started to kiss its length while rubbing the tip against his stubble, a sensation which Andy found unexpectedly marvellous. He had not been able to get his eyes off of Novak the whole time, at first from sheer surprise at what was happening but later in order to make sure that he remembered this. He wanted a memory that he could... use later on.

 

But the moment was nearly over, as he felt about to explode. "Novak, I'm going to..." he started but the Serb interrupted him. "Mm-hmm", he said, quickly getting back to sliding his dick in and out of his mouth again. The Scot finally closed his eyes, overwhelmed and spellbound, and then came. The explosion inadvertently made him thrust his hips forward, he tried to hold it but couldn't. It was stronger than him. He shot a few more jets of his come inside Novak's mouth who swallowed them immediately as they came out, without a single second of hesitancy. Andy was surprised by how much he got out, it wasn't as much as the first time, but still, a lot more than he had expected. Novak had just been that good.

 

Which was still a mystery to him. He stared down at the Serb who backed off and let Andy's cock out of his mouth very, very slowly. There wasn't a trace of come anywhere on it, Novak had been diligent in swallowing all of it. Andy had repeated the question "why?" so many times inside his head that he was tired of the sound of the word already. Novak was breathing almost as heavily as he was, the air that came out of his mouth blowing on his soaked penis. He then looked up, and his expression was defiant.

 

_Novak_

 

Following your instincts and doing what you feel like was a motto he had always had. He sometimes had weird conversations or even arguments with his own brain, which often reprimanded his impulsiveness. But it wasn't doing that right now. He didn't regret what he had just done (not second-guessing himself was his other motto), even though he couldn't explain it either. He'd wanted to do it, and for him, that reason was more than good enough.

 

"So.... um......" Andy started, obviously puzzled.

"Don't even say anything".

"Okay", he agreed, avoiding Novak's eyes. God, weirded-out Andy was so much fun to watch.

"How'd you like it?"

"Well, I.... I liked it".

"Yeah, tastes that way".

 

The noise Andy made was not a giggle and it was not a laughter, it was the feeling of awkwardness perfectly translated into sound. He then asked the question Novak didn't want him to:

 

"Why exactly did I get another one?"

"Are you complaining?"

"No", Andy responded with an urgency that betrayed just **how** much he had liked it.

"Then why do you ask?"

"Just curious", he finally looked at Novak, who was still on his knees.

"I wanted to. Figured you wouldn't mind either", he answered honestly, just because he saw no clear reason to lie.

 

Andy didn't seem to buy it, even though it was the truth. He just nodded his head and tried to pull himself together after coming for the second time that hour. Novak stood up and backed off a few steps, as the Scot went back to avoiding looking directly at him as he pulled his clothes back up. When he finished, Novak, who had the nice feeling of someone who has just got back home from a night out, approached him again and said with a grin:

 

"Take care, Andrew".

"Yeah, you too".

"Will I see you next week in Cincy?"

"Yeah, I'll play there".

"I meant 'will I **see** you' in Cincy next week?"

Andy hesitated before saying: "Would you like to?" He could be sassy too, after all.

 

Novak smiled wide, completely amazed at the ridiculousness of that moment.

"Get out of my face", he said playfully. Andy grinned and left. After a few minutes, so did Novak.


	4. Paris

_Andy_

 

If 2015 had taught Andy anything, it was that he was good enough to pretty much reliably beat anyone in the world, except for Novak Djokovic. Being second best was worse than being elsewhere in the Top 10 in a way, because the so-close-yet-so-far feeling was multiplied by a hundred being in that spot. Another defeat at the hands of the Serb wasn't the worst part, knowing that he would have won if the opponent had been anybody else was. "I just don't get lucky that often, do I?" He just needed one mere upset in the upper half of the draw and his path to the title would have been free, but no such luck for him. Novak was pretty much a machine at this point, and even the media was tired of saying that you couldn't really blame Andy for not being able to do what nobody was. Well, except for Stan that one time.

 

That didn't matter, though. His head was in Belgium anyway, thinking about the Davis Cup. He wasn't even practising on hard courts, he was prioritising working on the clay because that competition had suddenly become his biggest mission. "I'll have another go at Novak next year. Nobody can play that well for that long. Right?" It was more wishful thinking than analysis, but that would have to do. His desire to get back to work as soon as possible was what made him surprise Novak.

 

_Novak_

 

This was new.

 

Novak was always the one who arrived first at the locker room for the post-final obligations, but when he got there, Andy was waiting for him. Novak didn't hide his surprise.

 

"You look like you saw a ghost", Andy said.

"What are you doing here?", Novak asked.

"What do you **think** I came here to do, you idiot?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I meant.... what are you doing here already?"

"What's wrong with me being here before you?", Andy asked in a playfully mocking tone.

"Nothing, I didn't say there was anything wrong with it", Novak replied lightly.

"Well, okay, then".

"All right".

"Good".

"Great".

 

They immediately burst into laughter after that ridiculous non-conversation. Novak knew it would be pointless to do the entire scene of the bad boy who's come to not-so-gently impose his will on the loser. Novak, the Actor would not be making an appearance. Andy would call him on his bullshit.

 

Which was good. He wasn't going to say it out loud (that would sound arrogant as all hell, wouldn't it?) but he had won so much that year that it was getting repetitive. In New York, he and Roger were so fed up with each other that the ritual was hardly any fun at all. At least in Shanghai it had been someone different, but Tsonga wasn't too good at the ritual. Rafa and Roger at least put themselves through the effort of doing it well. And so did Andy.

 

Novak sat down on a bench right in front of him, put his bag — which for some reason he was still carrying — next to it and said:

 

"Well, off you go, then".

 

Andy sighed and looked down, apparently also a bit tired of the repetition. But then he looked back up, with a playful look once again on his face:

 

"Don't expect me to give you two. I'm only giving you one and then I'm **out** of here".

 

Novak had almost forgotten about that. He had struggled for a while with trying to justify to himself why he had voluntarily given Andy two blowjobs when the rules only required him to give him one, but as usual he respected his own policy of not regretting anything he'd had fun doing.

 

"I didn't say I expected you to give me two".

"I still don't know why you did that, though".

"Oh, come on, Andy, let's not go there".

"Why not?"

"Because it's weird!"

"I'm just curious. I mean, I'm not saying I didn't like it, but I just thought I'd ask".

"Well, can't you just be grateful for it? As far as I remember, I did a spectacular job, didn't I?"

"You did".

"So, let's just leave it at that. We made the ritual a little bit lighter than it normally is, no need to make a big deal out of it".

 

Andy was staring at Novak with a smirk so teasing that the Serb almost felt awkward like he had in Melbourne. It was as if he was realising something.

 

_Andy_

 

That was the answer he was looking for. Andy wasn't usually the type to give anyone the third degree, or questioning them, but he really wanted to know. And now he did. Novak hadn't said it, but he didn't need to. The look in his face gave him away. He liked it, the bastard. Novak liked sucking his dick. He liked it so much he felt compelled to do it again without being obligated to because he fucking **loved** it. Internally, Andy couldn't help but feel weirdly aroused by the idea. I mean, what man doesn't like to know that someone enjoyed pleasing him and swallowing his load? It was the most primitive, bestial type of masculine pride that existed, and he was feeling it. He had been so uneasy with himself since Melbourne, ever since his own mind forced him to admit that he didn't hate it either, that he actually liked the disdained loser's position provided that the winner was Novak Djokovic. But now... now they were even. Novak enjoyed being with him just as much as he enjoyed being with Novak. That realisation took a while to sink in, and the Serb noticed something was up.

 

"Are you okay? You haven't said anything in a while and you're creeping me out with that smile", the naughty bastard said.

"Oh, I'm fine. I am great, in fact", Andy replied.

"Why? I just beat you", Novak taunted him.

"Yeah, you did", Andy said as sarcastically as he could. He wasn't at all bothered by Novak's mean little joke. Montreal made so much sense now. He wanted to laugh, but fought the urge and kept a straight face. There was work to be done at the moment.

 

"So, what are you waiting for?" Novak wasn't even bothering to hide his anticipation anymore. And Andy wasn't going to keep him waiting.

 

_Novak_

 

"I'm not waiting for anything anymore", Andy said as he streched his hand and started to rub his hand against Novak's bulge over his shorts.

 

Novak looked down at his own crotch while Andy's huge callous hand caressed it. Mostly he was looking down to avoid the Scot's eyes, who wouldn't stop staring at his face. Andy then got closer to him, kneeling before him while pulling down his shorts but not his underwear. He did all that staring firmly at Novak's eyeballs, almost as if challenging him to retribute. Novak didn't, though. He felt it would be far too weird.

 

There was a deafening silence in the locker room as Andy continued to stroke Novak's increasingly hard dick over his underwear, which was normal because nobody likes to talk much while doing these things, especially with the lights on and, well, given the circumstances. But Andy then started doing something he never had before: he started talking.

 

"You liking that?"

"Uh... yeah".

"Do you want me to go faster?"

"I guess..."

"Do you or don't you?"

 

At this, Novak finally looked at Andy, whose face said that he meant business.

 

"I do", Novak replied. "Go faster".

 

Andy obeyed and stroked his cock faster and harder. He waited for what seemed like an eternity before finally pulling down Novak's underwear and jerking him with no fabric in between. That was a hard thing to do with no lube, so Andy spit on his own hand and on Novak's dick like a fucking brute. The rawness of the act was surprising at first, but it was also kinda hot, Novak liked it. And it worked: Andy's hand was now sliding more freely up and down his dick, and it was so big that it was able to grab almost all of it at once. The roughness of the surface made for some very pleasing friction on his cock's skin, and Novak felt his heart racing.

 

"It's like you said in Canada", Andy was still talking, like a weirdo, "you've been so nice to me that I should repay the favour".

"Yeah, well, I'm not complaining".

"Damn right,  you aren't".

 

Novak was really liking this new, weirdly aggressive Andy. Where had that come from? "Don't stop", was what he said.

 

Not only did Andy not stop but he quickly got down and carefully licked all of Novak's dick, taking his time to do so, and even having the audacity of biting it lightly every now and then, which Novak enjoyed, to his own surprise. The orgasms had kicked in a long time ago, but they were only getting stronger due to the warmth of Andy's tongue, whose motion was getting increasingly less gentle. Novak noticed his hand was firmly holding on to the bench he was sitting on, even though he was at no risk of falling. Andy got his head back up and continued with the handjob, staring firmly at his dick as he stroked it faster and faster, with an urgency that seemed impossible a few minutes before. His mouth had only got it wetter, and his hand was sliding across it effortlessly, all Novak could feel was Andy's huge fingers repeatedly rubbing the surface of his penis, which was pulsating in the Scot's hand. Novak had the impression that the room was getting hotter but he knew that that was just his body, begging for more.

 

"Hand and not mouth this time?", he asked, surprised that he had broken the silence.

Andy did not slow down even marginally to reply: "If you don't like it, I can stop".

"I said do not fucking stop", Novak replied with an urgency that made Andy look him straight in the eye again and jerk him even faster.

 

Andy was kneeling in front of Novak but he was not bent down, his back was fairly straight so their faces were at the same height, and Andy seemed to be getting closer and closer to Novak, who at one point had the impression that Andy was about to kiss him. He didn't, and as the two continued, Novak felt that he had the authority to give Andy orders.

 

"Now suck it".

 

Without hesitating, Andy got down and placed all of Novak's dick in his mouth, immediately sucking it and moving his head back and forth, face-fucking himself.

 

After a few moments, Novak gave a new order: "Now stroke it".

 

Andy obeyed religiously, letting Novak's dick out of his mouth and then using his monstrously big hand again. He kept switching between the two methods at the Serb's orders, who was feeling orgasms mixed with a sense of authoritative pleasure; he liked being in control, he liked having someone — no, not someone, he liked having **Andy** — obeying his commands and doing whatever he told him to in order to please him.

 

It was going to be over soon, though. "I'm going to come", he said.

 

Andy, who had Novak's dick in his mouth at that time, let it out and went back to using his hand. He lifted his head again to the same height as Novak's and put his free hand against the wall, right next to the Serb's ear. Djokovic had a weird feeling of being completely dominated, even though he had been the one giving orders. Andy was still quickly stroking his cock, but now that his other arm was so close to his face and he was once again staring violently at Novak's eyes, the Serb felt absolutely powerless. Combined with the ecstasy of being about to come, he could swear he was feeling a million things at the same time. The strongest one of them all was the huge orgasm he was about to have, though.

 

"Aren't you gonna swallow it?", he somehow managed to ask, in between hectic breaths.

"Don't worry about it. Just come".

"But I want you to swall..."

"Just fucking come!", Andy shouted, right in front of him, his face now only centimetres away from Novak's, who backed off against the wall. Andy moved forwards, though, and the distance between their faces remained minimal.

 

Novak quickly recovered from being shouted at and felt that his dick was about to explode. Andy was so uncomfortably close to him that he could feel the Scot exhaling. Novak had his head tilted back and his mouth open from the euphoria, and he could taste drops of sweat falling from Andy's nose and landing directly on his tongue due to the proximity. Novak couldn't keep it in any longer, so he closed his eyes and let it all out. His whole body shook and swung as he came, and the violence of the motion made him bump into Andy, which was inevitable given how close they were, but the Scot didn't back off. Novak thought their lips might have accidentally touched, but he wasn't sure.

 

He came what felt like a litre and when he was finally done, Andy rested his head against his shoulder, as if he was the one who was tired. Although he probably was, given how ridiculously fast he was moving his arm. They remained like that for a few seconds, with Andy still having Novak's dick in his hand. He finally lifted his head from the Serb's shoulder and the two shared a look with enough complicity to make Novak finally admit (to himself, never to Andy) that this wasn't just another ritual.

 

Both men looked down at the result of their _moment_. The Scot's hand and shirt were completely smeared. Novak was about to say something but before he could Andy brought his hand to his mouth and started licking all of Novak's come off of it and swallowing it. Novak couldn't believe what he was seeing and just stared. There was something mesmerising about watching a person willingly take in your liquid, a primal masculine pride that the Serb couldn't help having right then and there. Andy didn't spare a single drop and then proceded to take his shirt to his mouth and drank all the come that was there as well. That was most definitely not the first time that Novak had seen a defeated opponent swallow him — he had once made someone, he didn't remember who, lick his come off of the wall — but that was the first time that someone did it so willingly and it was one of the most bestially satisfying things he had ever seen.

 

When Andy was finally done, he looked at Novak without any hint of embarrassment, who had to muster up all the strength he had in him not to kiss the Scot. He hated to admit that he wanted to, but that was one wish he wasn't going to grant himself. That was definitely breaking a boundary. But resisting that urge felt like the most difficult thing he had ever done.

 

_Andy_

 

He regretted nothing. Nothing. He had done what he had done, and he was determined to own his choice. Novak was staring at him incredulously, sweating like a pig and pop-eyed.

 

"Don't even think about asking for another one", Andy said. Novak didn't answer, it was like he was in a trance. "Earth to Novak", Murray tried to snap him out of it.

 

"Th... thank you. That was amazing", Novak said.

"God, you creep. You don't say 'thank you' after these things".

"What do you say then?"

"Not 'thank you'", Andy said as he stood up. He needed to change his shirt, because the one he had been wearing was now covered in come so he took it off. It was impossible to not notice Novak's weird stare at his chest, with an apparently longing look.

 

"What?", Andy said harshly.

"Nothing", Novak whispered, the most unconvincing answer of all time, as he continued to stare at Andy's upper body, with his mouth very visibly open. Andy was starting to feel weirded out by that.

 

Andy quickly found another shirt in his bag and put it on, and Novak came out of his half-coma.

 

"Dude, you're creeping me out", the Scot said. Once again, Novak didn't reply, which was getting very disconcerting. Andy put his bag on his shoulders and turned around to leave. "Alright, then. I am more than done here. See you next year".

 

Novak stood up and said: "What do you mean, 'next year'?" He still hadn't put his underwear back on so he looked pretty ridiculous at that moment. "You're going to London, right? The Finals?"

 

"Yeah, I'll be there. What I meant was we won't see each other in the locker room".

"Why not? You have a great chance of making the final".

"Novak, come on. I'm practising on clay, for the Davis Cup. I'm not gonna make the final of a super competitive hard court tournament".

"You might. You're good enough". Novak sounded almost desperate.

 

It wasn't like Andy to be so straightforward, but he sensed that Novak's guard was down, so he decided to push him:

 

"Are you saying you're gonna miss me?"

"Well, you're... my friend".

"I meant... miss me **here** , in the **locker room** ".

 

Novak said 'no', but his uncomfortable fake laughter was the 'yes' that Andy needed. He was going to miss him. And Andy was now content enough with himself to recognise that he was going to miss Novak too.

 

"Well, don't worry, though. I'm sure we'll see a lot of each other in 2016", the Scot said.

"You think?"

"That is, **if** you make it to more finals", Andy said defiantly.

"Is that a challenge?", Novak, now excited, replied.

 

Andy just lifted his eyebrows and smiled, and Novak got the message.

 

"Well, take care, Andy".

"You too".

 

Novak opened his arms, inviting Andy for a hug and he complied. The two men held each other for quite some time before finally letting go.

 

"Well, then. See you next year".

"See you next year".

 

Andy turned around and left the locker room with the feeling that he had just discovered something very, very big about himself, about the man that he was. The uniqueness of this ritual and the situation it constantly put him and Novak in caused their relationship to be complicated and fucked up in complex ways, but it kept growing and developing nicely, and it surprisingly just kept making Andy more and more fond of his friend/foe. His year was far from over, and so was Novak's, but he was looking forward to 2016 already.


End file.
